Fear, Love, and Lots of Ice
by fufulupin
Summary: Rated mainly for swearing (just to be safe). This is a group of little one-shots, scenes of a SamLaura nature from the movie in novelized format. RR(completed)
1. Plane Ride

Disclaimer: Not owning a thing. Well, except for the DVD version of this movie. That's about the extent of my ownership.

There wasn't a hell of a lot that Sam Hall hated. In fact, he liked to think of himself as a pretty laid-back guy. He didn't mind people (unless they were complete idiots), he didn't mind school (unless some moronic professor was failing him for no reason…Sam's blood boiled at the memory of his last math test), he didn't mind his family (although his father was almost never there—he had to admit that got on his nerves a bit).

But there was one thing that really grated on his nerves. And that was feeling helpless. Sam hated feeling helpless more than anything in the world.

What had he done that was so wrong, he wondered, that God had to put him in the most helpless situation ever?

He was seated on a plane, of all things, hundreds of feet in the air. He groaned to himself as he looked around for something, anything, with which to occupy himself.

"Peanuts," he mumbled to himself, ignoring the look Brian shot him from two seats over. "Thank you, God."

"I never knew you were such a spaz for nuts, Sammy," Brian teased. Sam glared at him briefly as his shaking fingers tore at the package. It refused to open and he cursed.

"Damn it! Can't anything go my way today?"

Beside him, Laura glanced up from her notebook and offered a warm smile. He felt her hand close gently over his own and looked up; she took the bag from him and ripped it open with her pencil.

"There," she told him with her usual sweet smugness. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," he mumbled, irritated with himself. _What kind of guy needs a girl to open peanuts for him?_

Brian appeared to be thinking the exact same thing. He smirked. "Aww, wittle Sammy needed Laura to open his nuts, eh?"

The slightly dirty undertones weren't lost on Sam, who threw one of the beloved bits of edibility at his friend. "Shut up," he mumbled, refusing to even peek over at Laura. Her head was bowed as her brown eyes perused the notes she had made. One hand twirled a lock of dark hair absently; Sam bit his lip.

This was another bit of his life that he wasn't quite so fond of. He normally wasn't this bad with girls, but when Laura came within twenty feet of him, he tended to become a slightly-clumsy mute. He couldn't be absolutely certain, but he was pretty sure that women-folk weren't big on doting on the shy, klutzy types. At least, Laura wasn't big on it. She seemed to like the intellectual guys…which was why he had opted for joining the team.

Sam had always been a smart guy, but teams? They weren't really his thing. Yet here he was, on a plane (_Why?!_) headed to New York. He must've been losing his mind, he realized blankly as he stuffed a handful of peanuts into his mouth. No sane person would put themselves through such hell.

His hands were still trembling. He cursed his phobia, finished the bag, and reached for another one.

Time passed. He couldn't be sure exactly how _much_ time, but enough for him to munch on more peanuts than the average human should ever consume. He debated counting the packets on the tray in front of him and decided that that would probably only make him sicker.

_One more bag,_ he announced mentally. _One more and we'll be landing. We have to. There is no way we can stay up here for much longer._

One handful. Two. The salt was starting to make him a bit nauseous but he didn't care. This was all he had to keep him sane.

"You all right?"

The voice, as sweet as the owner, made him jump slightly in his seat. Laura was looking at him, head cocked to the side as sympathy shone in her bright eyes. Sam nodded through a very faint smile and made a dive for the next handful.

"He's afraid of flying," Brian explained in a monotonous tone of voice, his eyes skimming his book. Sam looked up sharply and frowned.

"I'm fine," he insisted, shoveling yet more peanuts into his mouth. _Oh, God, I think I'm starting to sweat salt…_

A tiny ding caught his attention and he looked up at the sign above his head. _Fasten seatbelt? Shit…_

Brian didn't help. "You know, statistically, the chance of a plane going down because of turbulence is less than…what? One in a billion?"

Sam closed his eyes and held back a whimper. His friend continued.

"Or is it a million? I can't remember if its—"

"Shut up, Brian," Laura interrupted. Sam made a mental note to kiss her for the intervention, assuming his ever gained the strength to admit that he'd been pining for her for years.

She turned to him, inching closer in her seat. If he hadn't been feeling quite so panicked, Sam might have taken the opportunity to admire the way she smelled or the fact that she was paying attention to him at all. He stared straight ahead. _I won't move. If I don't move, nothing will happen…_

"Listen, Sam. Don't listen to him, okay? Everything's fine, they're still serving drinks."

_And this makes it fine?_ He nodded, still staring at the back of the seat in front of him. She smiled lightly and turned back to her notes.

A stewardess clomped by in high heels. She said something in hushed tones to another woman, then came clomping back up the aisle. Sam smiled hopefully up at her, but she ignored him and kept going. _Well, this is filling me with a sense of security._

The plane gave a violent rumble. As Sam watched, the woman went to the back, pulled at a pair of curtains, and sat down. She fastened her own seatbelt, looking anxious. He swallowed.

Another ding preceded the captain's voice. "Folks, it appears we're going to have a bit of a bumpy ride here for the next few minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts and put your tray tables and seat backs in their upright positions until we get through this. Thank you."

Sam hurriedly obeyed the instructions, his hands shaking harder than ever before. Beside him, Laura placed a hand against her heart as if to gauge just how freaked out she was becoming.

The plane shook and there was a loud and collective, "Woooaaahh!" from the passengers. Someone yelled, "Grab it!" and Sam turned to look over his shoulder at whatever it was that was supposed to be grabbed.

A tray came hurtling past him, just missing his head. He turned his attention back to the seat in front of him, one hand instinctively reaching for the nearest thing. _Mommy_, he thought, feeling very much like a little boy.

Laura started and looked up at him; it had been her hand that he grabbed. _Well, she'll do…_

He leaned back against his seat and gripped her fingers harder, trying to concentrate on the softness of her skin, the way heat radiating against his palm. For a moment, he hated his shyness and wished to God that he could get through this, just to be able to tell her how he felt. The words pressed against his lips; he opened his mouth, but all that escaped was a terrified gasp.

Out the window, he could see the wind rushing. Discomforted by the sight of what would surely be death, he turned away—and a downpour of luggage landed on his head. Beside him, Laura gave a tiny moan of fear.

Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth together, Sam willed it to be over. A backpack bounced off his shoulder; he resisted the urge to cry.

And then, quite suddenly, it was done. The plane righted itself and the passengers stopped screaming. Sam's breath continued to come in short, jerky gasps and he tried to pacify himself. _Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale…man, her hand is soft…_

"Sam?" Laura's voice was soft, questioning. At first, he thought he'd imagined it, but no. She repeated herself, a bit more forcefully. "Sam."

He looked up. She was smiling, but she looked a bit off-put and he realized blankly that he was crushing her fingers beneath his own.

Sure enough: "Can I have my hand back?" she asked quietly. He looked down at the armrest and released her; she clenched and unclenched a fist as if to make sure it was working properly. He nodded at her, trying to smile in a suave fashion. _Yeah right. Suave. I'll be lucky if she doesn't sue for broken fingers…_

She laughed, a bit nervously, he thought. It was a pretty sound; would have been beautiful if she hadn't been laughing at his stupidity. He was debating whether or not to slam his head against that lovely seat in front of his own when oxygen masks fell from the ceiling, scaring the crap out of him once more. He sighed. If this was how the entire trip was going to be, he was in for more than Hell. He was in for all nine circles.


	2. Phones and Water

Disclaimer: Still don't own. Never will, sadly enough. This fanfiction is as close as I'll ever get…

She had thanked him for saving her life.

Sam Hall's head was spinning. His hair was soaked, he was freezing, and he was trapped in the middle of what could possibly turn into a death-ridden nightmare.

But she had thanked him. More than that, she had called him brave.

He resisted the urge to bounce in his seat. Brave. Him, brave. Only in his dreams had he ever heard Laura call him that. Only in his dreams had she looked at him with that quiet intensity in her eyes, an expression that begged love and…something else?

He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. He _had_ saved her life, _had_ been brave, out of sheer instinct. The only thing that had been going in his mind had been a little mantra: _I won't lose her. I won't lose her. I won't lose her._

She'd been trying to get a woman's bag out of a taxi. Her back was to a wall of water, one that would have swallowed her, washed her away forever, without a care. There had only been one thing to do.

Sam had leapt into the rising waves, frantic, and run to her. He had grabbed her hand and tugged her through the water, up the stairs, into the library…just in the nick of time. One second later, and they would have been fish food. His hands were still trembling ever so slightly.

"Tell her how you feel," J.D. had said. Sure, that was easy for him to say. He was rich, suave, handsome. Sam wasn't any of that. Even being in the general vicinity of Laura made him so nervous that he could barely keep a hold on his textbooks. Telling her how he felt…that was impossible. Completely. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about.

There was a pay phone that he had to reach. Of course, it couldn't be on the upper floors—that would have been simple. No, this phone was downstairs, beneath a literal ocean. Sam had to get to it. It was his only chance.

He rushed past Laura, who asked, "Where are you going? The power's out."

"Older pay phones draw their power directly from telephone lines," he explained, moving as fast as his legs could carry him. She followed just behind him, grabbing a flashlight from a nearby table.

They worked their way down the stairs in relative silence. Suddenly, he asked, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

She looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Crazy. Do you think I'm insane? For trying this." He stared at her, pleading for the truth.

Laura's eyes widened slightly. "Crazy?" she repeated. "Why would I think you're crazy?"

Sam frowned and shook his head. "Never mind. This is it." He gestured.

"Are you sure about this?" Laura asked, shining the thin beam of light down into the pool. Sam frowned a bit more deeply. _No_, his mind answered. _In you go_, his body replied, and he waded into the cold water.

"Ahh," he gasped. _Very cold_, his mind scolded. _Stupid jackass, what kind of idea was this?_ He dragged himself over to the phones and picked one up apprehensively.

Dial tone.

"It works!" he announced happily, feeding twenty-five cents in and punching in his father's work number. Laura looked on from the stairs, biting her lip nervously.

Jack Hall's voice came through the line, sounding shocked. "Sam?"

"Dad!" Sam yelled back.

"Where are you?" Jack demanded. "Are you all right?"  
"Fine," Sam replied. "We're at the public library."

"Sam, its Mom," his mother's voice cried. She sounded more choked up than her seventeen year old had ever heard her. "I'm so happy you're okay," she continued and Sam felt that ancient urge to be held.

"Mom! Can you call Laura and Brian's parents and tell them that we're all right?" His teeth were chattering. He clutched the phone more tightly.

"Yes, of course," she answered. He smiled against the receiver and started to reply, only to find the floor being yanked out from under him. He went under the waves, coughing and choking. A warped sound came out of the phone, but he couldn't tell what it was. He heard a twisted version of Laura's voice cry, "Sam?" She sounded worried.

He broke the surface as she cried, "Sam!" again. Wiping his wet hair from his eyes and gasping, he pulled the phone back to his ear. "What is going on out there, Dad?" he demanded, trying to breathe.

"Sam? Sam, listen to me. Listen very carefully. Forget what I said about trying to head south. Its too late for that. The storm is just going to get worse."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. His father's tone left no room for argument. _Comforting…_ He shuddered in the cold.

Jack continued: "Its going to turn into a massive blizzard with an eye in the center of it, just like a hurricane."

It was getting hard to focus around the cold. "Uh huh…"

"Only the air's going to be so cold you could freeze to death in seconds."

The water was rising. Sam could hear Laura's breath quicken behind him; panic was starting to set in for her. Him too, if it came to that. "Sam," she said, voice trembling as badly as his body.

"W-what do we do?" he demanded.

"Listen to me, son. Do _not_ go outside. Just burn whatever you can to say warm and try to wait it out. I will come for you. Do you understand me? I will come for you!"

Sam made a noise of pain and braced his hand against the arch above his head. It was closing in far too quickly, making him more nervous than he could bear. He spluttered as a mouthful of water gagged him.

"Sam!" Laura cried, a defined note of agony in her voice. "Sam, come back!"

He was under. Blackness surrounded him. There no longer was an up or a down, only dark wetness. _Where to go, where to go…_

The last thing he had heard was his father demanding to know if he was still there. The briefest bout of guilt swept over him, berating him for not saying something profound or meaningful—hell, even a simple "I love you". Then he was overcome with the purely human need for survival. He swam blindly away from the phone, listening all the while for the sounds of Laura's voice over the rushing water. She was like a beacon, drawing him to salvation…or at least to _air_.

"Sam?" he heard. _There…almost there…_

She gasped as though she had been the one trapped beneath the waves and reached for him, dragging him out of the water. He gulped air.

She gripped his shoulders tightly. "I thought you drowned," she cried…actually _cried_, he realized; tears were dripping down from her cheeks onto his already-soaked face.

"Hey," was all he could get out by means of comfort. She grasped his head, leaning down and pressing her face against his. He was in her lap, he realized, the whole upper portion of his body. And she was snuggling her nose against his cheek, emitting little whimpers, soft sounds of fear and relief. He shivered uncontrollably, wishing that he could stop and thanking God for this.

He was grinning, he knew, which probably looked a little odd to her. Somehow, he didn't care; he was _alive_, in the lap of the girl he was in love with, and she was holding him tightly. If that wasn't cause for joy, Sam couldn't imagine what was.

Her hands moved lightly against his cheek for a moment before she seemed to come to herself. Grabbing his shoulders once more, she said, "Let's get some dry clothes for you" and made to haul him to his unsteady feet.

"Yeah," he forced himself to say, pulling himself up and leaning against her warm body for support. Her long hair tickled his face and he gave a small sigh.

She pulled him upstairs and left him with instructions to strip before ducking into a nearby employee closet and returning with a large overcoat. Shivering worse than ever before, Sam shucked off his jacket and hoodie. He glanced up as he unbelted his pants and pulled them down, feeling only slightly self-conscious about being nearly-naked in front of the one girl who held his heart in the palm of her hand. _Sorry, slightly? How about horrified? Not to mention frozen…_

He grunted. "M-my hands are shaking," he admitted, stepping out of his jeans.

She nodded. "That's okay," she whispered, hefting the coat. "Here." She draped it over his shoulders, ignoring the fact that he was bent over and nearly nude. Then she shocked him by wriggling out of her own jacket and coming forward so suddenly that he nearly stepped back. At first, he couldn't figure out if she was coming on to him; then he realized that there was no sensuality in her movements.

Her arms went around him tightly and he couldn't stop himself from leaning backward. "W-what are you doing?"

She shook back her hair and held him more tightly, pressing her body against his bare chest without any apparent qualms. "I'm using my body heat to warm you," she explained, tucking her chin against his shoulder. "If we let the blood from your arms and legs rush back to your heart too quickly…" Her voice faltered, then returned, quiet and clearly terrified. "Your heart could fail." There was a sob just behind her words and he felt her shudder just as badly as he was.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair, relishing the soft silk of the curls, the gentle strength of her arms around him, the unintentional seduction of her body against his. "W-where did you learn that?" he asked, trying to pump a bit of humor into the situation. _Anything to keep her from crying…God, don't let me be the one to make her cry._

She laughed softly against his shoulder and he gave himself a silent pat on the back. "Some of us were actually paying attention in health class." She laughed again, nuzzling his shoulder with her face. Her arms tightened around him and he felt the warmth seep into his body. He pressed his face against her hair.

"How are you feeling?" she asked tenderly. He debated telling her then, telling her exact what emotions she sparked in him…

"M-much better," he answered, grinning stupidly. He became conscious of the fact that he was dripping on her. Yet, somehow, she didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes, basking in the momentary euphoria.


	3. Flames and a Kiss

Disclaimer: Yeah, folks, in the last day or so, between updates, I rewrote time so I owned this lovely film. –rolls eyes- Of course I own nothing! Although I do love this little ship so…I'd guess you know that, don't you?

A/N: Okay, I'm not entirely sure of the time span in this film, so if I'm a little off, please forgive me.

Warmth really was an overrated miracle, Sam Hall thought as he sat by the library's fireplace. Not that he'd minded being held so tightly by Laura, but the lack of shivering was a plus.

He stared into the flames. His father was coming for him, he was certain of that much. What he wasn't so sure of was whether or not he'd still be breathing when Jack did appear. The snow was building outside and they had seen an actual ocean liner go past the window a couple of hours ago. Life was getting way too complicated for Sam's taste and all he could think was that, at the start of the day, his biggest worry was a failed grade and a plane ride. It all seemed surreal.

On the happier side of things, he had been slowly getting closer to Laura. Between his saving her life and having his own life saved by her, the two had developed a bond much stronger than anything either had felt before this day. _Not to sound corny_, he thought, smirking to himself.

They had had a conversation not too long ago about the most random things. Favorite vacations had come up and he had divulged information about a trip he'd gone on with his father so long ago…told her things he'd barely told anyone else. It had felt so wonderful to open up to someone that he'd almost forgotten about the hell rampaging outside….

A cough interrupted his thoughts. He turned from the fire and looked over at where she was laying on a makeshift bed. Her eyes were closed, but her sleep seemed fitful.

Laura was without a doubt the strongest woman he had ever met. She was as smart as she was beautiful and she had saved his life. Without her, he would most likely have died from hypothermia…he owed her a lot. To see her in pain was more than he could take.

She coughed again and he came over to stand near her, ready and willing to do anything to make her feel better.

"Hey." He leaned down a bit, to look more closely at her face. She turned and opened her eyes. She seemed surprised to see him, as if she had fallen asleep and forgotten all about the events of the day.

"Hey, are you all right?" Sam asked, feeling unbelievably stupid asking such a question. He gently pressed a hand to her forehead, then to her cheek. "You look like you have a fever or something."

"Fine," she whispered with a tiny smile. He warmed all over at the sight. "Just can't sleep," she added, pulling herself into a sitting position with some effort. He sat at her side, looking at her intently.

A tiny sigh escaped her lips. "My mind keeps going over all those worthless decathlon facts." She made a snickering sound, but he saw the pain reflecting in her eyes all the same. "This is pretty stupid, huh?"

"No, it's all right. You just haven't had time to adjust yet." He offered a smile and a nod; inside, his mind screamed,_ You idiot! Adjust?? Who would adjust to this within a _day

She seemed to be thinking the same thing. As he fidgeted like a lost little boy, she asked, "How am I supposed to adjust, Sam? Everything I've ever cared about, everything I've ever worked for has all been in preparation for a future that no longer exists.

"I know you always thought I took the competition too seriously."

He glanced up, surprised. Never had he heard this kind of defeated attitude from her. She was supposed to be strong…_But even the strong fail_, he reminded himself. _Even the best fall. _Suddenly, at this point more than ever before, he was determined to not let her fall.

She continued, self-mocking. "You were right. It was all for nothing."

He shook his head slightly. This wasn't right, for her say these things; worse, for her to believe them! Setting her straight…that was the only thing he could do.

"No," he admitted with a small shrug. "No, I just said that to avoid admitting the truth." He wanted to look away from her so badly, but those eyes, the big brown eyes that could make the switch from childlike innocence to haunting intensity to quiet intelligence…they held him more tightly that he had ever been held in his seventeen years. He tried to smile. _This is it. The edge of the cliff and I'm about to willfully jump off. _

"Truth about what?" she queried, curiosity evident in her soft voice. He suddenly wished that God would randomly smite him down, just to save him from what he was about to say.

"About w-why I joined the team." He lifted his eyebrows, trying to somehow make what he was about to let slip less…intense. Her eyes continued to bore through him, erasing the humor. The smile fell from his lips.

"I joined because of you." There, it was out. The urge to pound his skull repeatedly into a hard surface made itself known. He flinched slightly.

To his immense shock, this…._look_ entered her eyes. She smiled warmly; he looked away, over to the fire, and debated throwing himself into it. When he turned back, she was sitting up, moving closer to him. "Hey," she whispered and he waited for the words that would come: "Let's just be friends." "I don't like you that way." "Allow me to find the restraining order." He braced himself.

No words came. She leaned in and gently grasped his coat sleeve with one hand, pulling him even closer to her. He closed his eyes. _Don't wake up, Sam, don't wake up…_

Her lips were upon his. The kiss was soft, just as he had always expected, but there was something just beneath the surface, something new. Her mouth worked against his, became accustomed to the way his lips moved, and suddenly she was probing his mouth open with her own, both hands grasping his collar to brace herself. He felt her tongue, tasted her, and nearly moaned with a mixture of astonishment and desire. _This isn't real, this can't be real…_

After what seemed like the longest, most heavenly eternity, her mouth left his. She was pulling back, looking him over through half-closed eyes. He sat still, dazed, resisting the temptation to lunge forward and kiss her again. _It wasn't a dream_, his mind told him disbelievingly. _It was real. She's real…_

He continued to sit still, as if the slightest movement would remind her that he was Sam Hall, not the boy of her dreams at all, just a shy little nerd who couldn't speak around her, who managed to fail math classes even when he excelled at them. Whose relationship with his father left something to be desired…like…a relationship with his father.

Her breath was coming in short little pants. Her eyes continued to search him. He swallowed.

"Wow," he breathed. It was lame, but it was all he could come up with.

Her lips curved upwards. "Yeah." There was a tiny pause, then: "I'm glad you joined the team, Sam."

All he could do was nod. She lightly brushed her lips against his once more, a movement that was full of promise and hope, then leaned back against her makeshift pillows. He watched her as she rolled over and closed her eyes, concealing another quiet cough. Smiling, he stroked her hair, pushing it out of her face. She was truly beautiful…and, oddly enough, she _liked _him. That in itself was stranger than anything else that had taken place over the course of the day.

A/N: Ok, that was the fluffiest thing I've ever written. Review replies:

Kai: Thanks! I don't mind the lack of caps and I'm glad that someone likes my work.

The Person: I'm glad that I don't suck at copying lines. lol, thanks a bunch.

Yeah, well…that was strange. I haven't done review replies in ages, so I'm sorry if that sounded slightly odd. There should be one more installment of this lovely little fluff-novelization-thing, so hang tight.


	4. The Rescue

Disclaimer: -debates thinking about not owning this film, decides to scrape forehead on the floor instead- I love the all mighty team that is Jake Gyllenhaal, Emmy Rossum, Dennis Quaid, Roland Emmerich, etc., etc. I own nothing…still. And I don't think I will ever own anything of this magnitude. Which is depressing…anywhoo! On with the fluff!

A/N: This ought to be the final addition to this, unless some randomness pops into my brain. Which is doubtful. So…enjoy, read, review. Not necessarily in that order.

She was asleep. Still.

Sam Hall paced the library floor, his pulse racing. Laura was still sleeping on the couch, her beautiful face pale and drawn. She was breathing normally (_thank God_), but the fact that she hadn't woken once in nearly twenty hours was beginning to make him a little bit ill.

She had been sick, blood poisoning of some kind. He'd risked life and limb to get the penicillin that could save her life, but now…

He fell to his knees beside the couch, reaching up and grasping her hand between both of his own. Her skin was cold. It wasn't like his own hands were toasty warm, but still. It wasn't the most comforting thing in the world.

"Laura, please." The words were hoarse, only a whisper. He hadn't meant to say them aloud, but once he started, he found that he could not stop himself. "Laura, don't do this to me. All of this…all of this, everything I did, was for you. You can't leave me. I don't think…I can't live without you, you don't understand. And maybe you don't feel the same but…but…."

The words, useless as they were, failed him. Sam bowed his head against his stomach, allowing his tears to fall. His shoulders shook; the others probably thought he was a complete pansy, but he didn't really care. She was the only one who mattered, the only one whose point of view was of any importance whatsoever. If she was gone…there was nothing left.

A tiny moan escaped him at the thought and he nuzzled against her, trying to drag some semblance of warmth and comfort from the rise and fall of her chest. She was still breathing, he reminded himself. That was the only reassuring factor that kept him from losing it entirely.

Suddenly, something changed. He jumped; a hand was stroking his hair, fingers threading into the soft brown locks. He lifted his head to see Laura's big brown eyes staring back at him, crinkled ever so slightly in a smile.

"Hey," she said softly in a voice as hoarse as his own. "Miss me?"

He laughed giddily. "You're…you're…"

"Gorgeous? Charming? Unbearably amazing in every possible way? Sam Hall, you flatter me." She coughed.

"Are you all right?" It occurred to him that he had asked this question of her much more frequently than he'd ever asked anything else of her.

Her smile widened. "Always worried, aren't you? Big softie."

"Only when it comes to the people I love," he confessed. He clamped a hand over his own mouth, blinking. "Did I just say that?"

"Yes, Sammy, I believe you did." Her grin was still taunting, but there was a look behind her eyes that betrayed her true emotions. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyes to meet her's. "You aren't just saying that to—mmph!"

Her hands had hooked around the back of his neck, clutching almost desperately to the rear of his skull as she pressed her mouth against his. There was something about her movements that proved to him that she was afraid—maybe more than afraid. She had been expecting death to grab her, just as he had, and the knowledge that she was all right…Well, she wasn't using any specific words, but her tongue and lips were doing a pretty good job of conveying her emotions.

Sam tangled his fingers in her curls, allowing his own terror and relief to filter out of his body through the kiss.

Wondering if he was insane, he broke the kiss and panted, "How are you feeling? Really, I mean. The last thing I want is for you to get weak and pass out."

"Sam." She bit her lip, smiling in the way only she could: shy and sexy at the same time. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay? I. Am. Fine."

He kissed her as the last word fell from her lips. This time it was she who pulled back, exhaling shakily.

"What?" he asked anxiously, sure that she was about to black out on him.

"Lots of people," she murmured. "I'm not big on performing in front of crowds."

It was true: everyone appeared to be awake and intrigued by the two teenagers. Sam's face flushed and he leaned back.

"What are you staring at?" he snapped. Brian laughed.

"About time, man," he said, reaching out a hand to J.D., palm up. "I win."

"You were _betting_?" Sam growled as J.D. handed a twenty to the self-proclaimed nerd. "On _us_?"

"Of course," Brian said matter-of-factly. "You were being slower than any other man in love on Earth, Sam. It was almost too sad to watch."

"So we found a way to pull amusement from the humiliation," J.D. finished. "But if it'll make you feel better, we'll pretend to go to sleep."

"We're actually going to sleep," the librarian informed them all. "Just because the world is freezing around us does not mean we need to give in to insomnia."

Laura collapsed back against her pillow. "She's right. We'll need our strength to survive."

"Gee, thanks, Cynic-Girl," Brian muttered. Sam chuckled and lightly kissed her forehead.

"I'll be right over here," he promised as he retreated to a spot just by the fireplace.

She nodded, ignoring J.D.'s high-pitched, "But Sam, sweetie, shouldn't you be keeping her warm with your sexy bod?"

Sam shuddered. "I never want to hear my name and the phrase 'sexy bod' come out of your mouth again."

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but he was woken by a sharp light. He frowned, rubbing his eyes with one gloved-hand.

"Who is that?" Laura asked softly. Sam's eyes snapped open.

"My father," he answered, awed. It was true; Jack Hall was standing just across the room, shining a high-powered flashlight on his son and looking more than a little shocked.

Laura drew in a breath as Sam moved past her. "You made it," he stated, astonished, just before throwing his arms around his snow-covered father.

Jack gasped. "Of course I did."

For a moment, Sam forgot about all the problems he'd had with his father in the past. Tears sprang to his eyes and he clutched Jack's arms, promising himself that he would never again curse the man's name, no matter what happened.

Finally, Jack pulled back, wiping at his own wet cheeks. "Come on," he commanded. "We're going to get out of here."

Brian gave a little whoop of joy and slapped his palm against J.D.'s. Sam grinned and turned to look at Laura, who beamed tearfully back. The homeless man's dog gave a cheerful bark.

"How are we getting home?" Sam asked as Laura got up and came over to lean against him. His father's eyes flicked to the couple and he smirked. "Dad?" Sam pressed.

"By helicopter, most likely," Jack replied. He extended a hand to Laura. "I'm Jack Hall. Are you by some chance Laura Chapman?"

"That's me." She accepted the handshake and nodded.

"Nice to meet you."

"O-k," Sam cut in before his father could say anything else. "Helicopter, right. When's that coming?"

A man Sam had never seen before prodded Jack's shoulder. "I put in the call," he said. "They'll be here in an hour or two. Enough time for us to get out into the open where they can see us."

"Good." Jack clapped his son on the shoulder and nodded. "Your mother will be thrilled to see you, Sam."

* * *

A little over an hour later, the small mob was stumbling across the frown wasteland that had once been the great city of New York. Very little skin was exposed on anyone; Laura was wrapped in a thick blanket and pressing herself against a seven-layer-clad Sam and she was _still_ shivering. The thought crossed the boy's mind that perhaps this was all a mistake, that maybe they would end up freezing to death after all.

Then the steady _whup-whup_ of helicopter blades reached his ears and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Jack!" a man cried, leaping from the 'copter and coming over to shake Sam's father's hand. "It's good to see you! C'mon, let's get you on board."

The freezing people hauled themselves onto the cramped helicopter. As he sank down in a window seat, with Laura beside him, it occurred to Sam that he hated flying. Hated it more than anything in the world, in fact. And yet here he was, in a flying vehicle and not caring one bit.

Laura nudged him with her shoulder and pointed out the window. "Look," she told him softly. He did—and nearly gasped aloud. Helicopters were swarming everywhere like giant honeybees, rescuing people from God only knew where.

Leaning back, Sam smiled. Laura laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling against him; he pressed his cheek against the top of his head. His father was grinning again, the wide grin of a man who has just succeeded at some fantastic feat. Sam gave a slight nod.

It was over. It had taken thousands of lives and nearly killed him, but the storm of the century was over. Sam Hall had not only survived, but gotten a girlfriend out of the situation. And he was being hailed, if only in silence, as a hero. Maybe, he thought, closing his eyes and reveling and the feeling of Laura's shoulder rubbing against his own, he wasn't such a weak kid after all.

A/N: The end! Okay, so I don't particularly like the way I wrote some of this, but if I were to go back it would just get all muddled. So I'm leaving it. I hope it does this couple and this film justice.


End file.
